Star Trek Hunter Episode 23: JAG Wars

[Robert Bruce Scott]

Continued from Episode 22: Sacrifice

Star Trek Hunter
Episode 23: JAG Wars

Episode 23 – JAG Wars​

“The founders of Star Fleet and the United Federation of Planets dreamed of a post scarcity, multi-species culture that would be at once universal and egalitarian. The reality was that such a culture would have to be realized by animals relying heavily on the most advanced technology they could muster. And each of the worlds that participated had only recently emerged from their own petty squabbles and fears over globalization of their own cultures. Many of them were still embroiled in those battles when they took on the much larger challenge of creating from a dozen separate species, a single culture based on moral principles that had not yet gained global acceptance within any of their worlds.

“Despite these best intentions, armed rebellion against the Federation and its most iconic institution, Star Fleet, was inevitable. Even though Star Fleet was always an arm of the United Earth Governments and not of the Federation Council itself, Earth’s fleet, by far the most powerful of the various homeworld fleets composing the Federation, has come to be universally perceived as the enforcer of a Federation that was always intended to be a strictly voluntary association.

“Unique among Earth military structures, Star Fleet does not have a military police force. As that function became increasingly necessary, it was inevitably assigned to the Office of Judge Advocate General as the only native law enforcement arm within Star Fleet.

“Eventually, in a desperate attempt to prevent Star Fleet from becoming a police force in and of itself, an increasing number of law enforcement functions, such as suppression of piracy, have been assigned to JAG. As a result, JAG has been assigned resources – at first only two Escort class ships. But the Prowler class was developed exclusively for JAG functions. In response to internal needs, this class of small, fast and versatile ships is now poised to swell into a dedicated, potent military and general police force. Just what the founders of Star Fleet never wanted.”

At-Large Appellate Justice Minerva Irons - The Evolution of a Police function within Star Fleet and the Development of the Prowler Class Starship for Law Enforcement; Star Fleet Internal Informational Memorandum #56910.2, Vol. 28, Item 42.



Crew of the U.S.S. Hunter: (Ship's Interactive Holographic Avatar - Hunter)

Captain Kenneth Dolphin.
Chief Executive Officer – Lieutenant Commander Napoleon Boles.
Chief Operations Officer - Lieutenant Commander Gaia Gamor.
.
Medical Director – Lieutenant Jazz Sam Sinder.

Assistant Medical Director – 2nd Lieutenant Gabriella Griff.

Ensign Sif.

Forensic Specialist - Midshipman Kunto Wekesa (nickname Kit).
Forensic Specialist – Midshipman Raaven.
Emergency Medical Hologram - Dr. Raj.
Tactical Medical Hologram - Dr. Kim.​

.
Director of Flight Operations – (Vacant).

Assistant Flight Director - 2nd Lieutenant. Leonarda Marks.

Navigator Johanna Imex.
Navigator Auqa’rh’lth.​

Ensign Chelna Zusa.

Chief Flight Specialist Thyssi zh’Qaoleq (last name rhymes with Chocolate).
Flight Specialist Dih Terri.
Flight Specialist Winnifreid Salazaar.
Flight Specialist Jennifer Hopper.​

.
Director of Ground Operations -Lieutenant T’Lon.

Assistant Ground Ops Director - 2nd Lieutenant Tolon Reeves.

Chief Tactical Specialist Rumi Grace.
Tactical Specialist Dasare Eba (rhymes with Cabaret Nina).
Tactical Specialist Veri Geki.
Tactical Specialist Ranni Neivi.​

Ensign Eykirros Jones (nickname is Ike Jones).

Investigator Buttans Ngumbo.
Special Agent Anana Lynarr, Trantor Police Intelligence Division (temporary assignment).​

.
Director of Engineering - Lieutenant Moon Sun Salek.

Assistant Engineering Director - 2nd Lieutenant Sun Ho Hui.

Midshipman Carlos Datsun.

Transporter Engineer Dragomut.​

Ensign Geoffrey Horatio Alstars.

Chief Flight Engineer Yolanda Thomas.
Flight Engineer Thomas Hobbs.
Flight Engineer Tomos.
Flight Engineer Kerry Gibbon.​

 

[Robert Bruce Scott]

Star Trek Hunter
Episode 23: JAG Wars
Scene 1: The Prodigal Sum Returns

23.1
The Prodigal Sum Returns​

“I nearly threw up. I don’t know what you were doing to make people in that courtroom nauseous, but it was almost more than I could handle.” The ancient former appellate justice found her way to a plush chair in the forward lounge of the R.R.C. Prodigal Sum and sank tiredly into it. An elderly romulan woman brought her a cup with heavy red steam cascading over the side.

“Hot bolian flat-salt baker’s water. Not exactly a delight for any non-bolian palate, but it should make your stomach feel better.”

“Bless you, Pivin…” The ancient Chinese woman took a sip, shuddered.

“Do not sip it. Drink it. All of it,” said Pivin. “The ingredient that tastes bad is the part that’s good for your stomach.”


Only two meters away, the flight cabin was open to the forward lounge. A short but enormously obese, bearded bajoran got up from the pilot’s seat and stretched. “We are now leaving Vulcan space and entering the Neutral Zone,” said Pomm Irons. “I have to say I am really impressed with the upgrade to our cloaking system. These last few weeks I’ve been able to spot cloaked warbirds, passed within meters of them and they never had a clue I was there. We were parked almost exactly on top of that navel administration building – right inside their shields and they didn’t have a clue.”

“Which explains how we were able to beam you out,” continued a cardassian woman, still seated at the tactical station in the flight cabin. “The romulans knew there was no way to beam you out of a shielded facility. What they didn’t know was that Pivin had reprogrammed the facility’s defense mechanism to extend its shield parimeter around our yacht. We were just beaming you from one area to another within a shielded facility,” Oarama Irons concluded.

“What about the nausea? And all those changes with my voice? And the building shaking?”

“More smoke and mirrors,” said Pomm, taking a lounge chair and pouring himself a brown, grainy-looking drink. “The sound effects were simple – hooking your internal communicator into the room’s sound system. I added some suggestive white noise at a very low level – subliminal. As for the nausea, you were lucky to be at the lowest level of the room. Most of the audience was a least a meter above you, so they aspirated a lot more of the hallucinogen than you did. And then there was the coup-de-grace… I extended a static warp shell around the building and phased it in and out – which will definitely mess with your gimbals – imagine subspace inside your molecules changing shape... I kept cranking the phase shift variance until the shearing edge started to shake the building’s foundation. They’re going to need some repair work…”


Pivin the Betrayer brought the ancient another glass, this time filled with a sparkling fluid with a bit of a light green color to it. “Have some springwine, Minerva. It should wash away the foul taste from the baker’s water without upsetting your stomach.”

“It’s Shiva now, Pivin. I am leaving my old life behind and beginning a new one.”

Oarama Irons looked over her shoulder at her grandmother. “You were serious about all that ‘Terror of the Innocents’ stuff?”

“Yes. And please get my new titles right, in case you are called upon to assist in spreading my, um… …propaganda.” Shiva looked carefully at Pivin. “Your hands…”


Pivin sat on the arm of the plush chair Shiva was relaxed into. She spread her fingers – her hands side-by-side. They did not match at all. The fingers of her left hand were short, strong, hardened with work and wrinkled with age. Her right hand looked as though it belonged on a much younger woman. The fingers were long and shapely, sensitive. Her right hand was significantly longer and not quite as wide or thick as her left. It was also darker in color - less green and more tan than the rest of her skin.

“It is a transplant,” Pivin said. “My donor was a vulcan, which shows just how compatible vulcans and romulans are. Interestingly, my donor was a master of the lyrette, which is primarily played with the right hand. And now I have that ability. I am not the master that she was, but I am learning more each day. I feel I owe her that much.”

“None of which tells me why you have a vulcan’s right hand,” Shiva rejoined.

“I was posing as an IIC agent,” Pivin replied. “Not too great a challenge considering that I used to be one for nearly 50 years. Imperial Intelligence Control manages agent access to their computer system by embedding a key into the wrist of each agent’s dominant hand. I arranged to have my arm amputated when they were getting close to finding me. If they had found me before I removed the implant they would have released the poison in the implant. I uploaded as much information as I could to Pomm while my doctor was watching a readout that showed how close their tracking system was to finding me. When it hit a pre-determined value – about five seconds – he amputated. Fortunately, he had access to the organ donation network and was able to provide me a replacement.”

“And your donor?” asked Shiva.

“Suicide. Her husband was among the Star Fleet officers who died with Vice Admiral Senvol protecting Starbase 18,” said Pivin. “There were a lot of suicides immediately following the Fall of Vulcan. Almost all of them vulcans – very few humans and no hybrids.” Pivin took a deep breath. Her expression became more serious. “Now you have to tell me what you plan to do to the romulans of Saketh.”

“Save them.” Shiva sighed heavily. “They know, intellectually, that their world is doomed. But they don’t understand it in their bones. I have a very short time to drive that lesson home to them. And it won’t be a pleasant lesson. Without it, they will bicker and delay and eventually flee that world and Saketh will die and the empire will starve. And the romulan people will die by the billions. Famine. War. Gamma radiation.”


“We are now station keeping at the provided coordinates,” said Oarama. She got up and strolled into the forward lounge.

“Please allow me to be your grandmother for one more moment. Oarama, Pomm, Pivin, I have one more assignment that I want you to do for me…” Shiva got unsteadily to her feet. She embraced Pivin first, then Pomm, then, finally her mostly cardassian granddaughter.

“What do you want us to do?” asked Pomm.

“Retire,” Shiva said without missing a beat. “Fade into the woodwork. Give the family a large number of children and let Pivin be a grandmother to them.” She held up her hand as it appeared Pomm was about to speak. “Ah! Listen to me, Pomm. The Irons family needs your genetics. The stuff that makes you the brilliant, devious little operative you have reliably been these past 15 years. And in the very unlikely case that I manage to return I would very much like to see Pivin again, alive and with at least three of her original limbs.”


Shiva stepped away from her three companions and looked up. “I am ready. Energize.”


Oarama made a disappointed noise as a transporter beam removed Shiva from the Prodigal Sum.

Pomm wrapped a heavy arm around his wife’s shoulders. “She never was one for long good-byes.”

“Tell that to Sela,” Pivin observed, earning a dry chuckle from her two companions.

23.1 (of 15)​

 

[Bynar0110]

Excellent chapter RBS. The last part about Sela gave me a chuckle.

 

[Robert Bruce Scott]

Star Trek Hunter
Episode 23: JAG Wars
Scene 2: The Prowler Class

23.2
The Prowler Class​

“Well, this really wasn’t my idea and I fought a little against it,” whispered Rear Admiral Serge Mykel Chekov to Commander Kenneth Dolphin. “Admiral Yasutake is caught up in the middle of a shit storm at H.Q. following your captain’s trial. I’m amazed he agreed to reassigning the Hunter back to JAG from the Tribunal with all the trouble you bring. There were a lot of people howling for your head before your captain buried us all in scandal. But it seems you have made some very powerful friends. Okay – it’s time. Put on your game face.”


Chekov, Dolphin and Captain Sagittarius Hunter were standing in the front row of the assembly area in Yuri Gagarin Memorial Park, in the center of the U.S.S. Milky Way. The Milky Way’s new captain, Suparman Saldana Budi, a small, intensely handsome man with dark skin and a strong Indonesian accent, was addressing a large segment of the crew as well as several crew members from the large number of other ships that were gathered in this area.


“…full status reports due to me at 1400 hours. Now, Rear Admiral Serge Mykel Chekov…” Captain Budi was standing on the platform under the statue of Yuri Gagarin. He stepped to the back of the platform as Admiral Chekov climbed up the three steps onto the platform.

Chekov looked out over the officers gathered in the park. It was easy to identify the Star Fleet Space Command from JAG officers. JAG crews wore uniforms of unrelieved black with the Star Fleet color code only expressed on the thin piping around the collar and the cuffs of their black shirts. Their communicator pins were finished in black instead of silver. Dolphin wasn’t wearing a communicator at all.

“Well, many of you have fought under my command recently,” said Rear Admiral Chekov. “I will be blunt so you can get back to your crews and prepare. We’re about to do it again. Only this time there will be no tricks. Just a display of raw force. We will be backing up the Andorian Imperial Guard and the Vulcan High Command in Exile at Weythan. You will be arranged in two functional groups. If you are wearing a black JAG uniform, you are in the group that will hit first if the romulans show up. If you are wearing the Space Command uniform, like mine, you will conduct follow-on operations following the first strike by JAG units.”

Chekov looked over the assembled group. “At this time I want to call Captain Sagittarius Hunter and Commander Kenneth Dolphin up here to join me.” As the two JAG officers took their places on stage, Chekov fished a small box out of his uniform.

“Doctor Dolphin, Admiral Urban Yasutake sends his apologies for not being here to do this himself and asked me to do this in his stead.” Chekov removed a solid pip from the box and pinned it to Dolphin’s collar. “Congratulations Captain Dolphin. Star Fleet Chief of Staff Jamaal El Fadil has approved this action as a field promotion. They, and a number of other very powerful people in the Federation are displaying great confidence in you. Do not disappoint them. Do you care to say a few words?”

Dolphin stepped forward. “If you are wearing the black JAG uniform like mine and serving on a Prowler class ship, I want you to picture your ship’s hull or its commission plate in your mind, specifically the serial number. The U.S.S. Hunter’s serial number is N.D.C. 1201. If, like the Hunter, your ship’s serial number ends with an odd digit, you are in the Hunter group, which I will coordinate. The U.S.S. Prowler’s serial number is N.D.C. 1202. If, like the Prowler, your ship has a serial number that ends with an even digit, you are in the Prowler group, coordinated by Captain Sagittarius Hunter. Full briefing will be in the Gherman S. Titov room at 1300 hours. That is all.” Captain Dolphin stepped back.

Admiral Chekov cleared his throat, then said, “Are there any questions?” Chekov nodded toward one of the captains in the front row. “Captain Red…”

“Why would the JAG boats conduct the first strike?”

“If the romulans show up, you will see,” Chekov answered. “With no other questions, we are adjourned. Get back to your other duties!”


A few minutes later, Captains Budi, Hunter and Dolphin were in the Titov room along with Admiral Chekov and a small bottle of vodka. “A drink to our new brother in the family of Star Fleet captains,” said Chekov. He poured a single shot of vodka for each of the three captains and one for himself. He raised his shot glass to Dolphin. “Vashe zdorovye!*”

The admiral drained his shot. The captains followed suit.


Checkov tapped Dolphin on the chest with his freshly emptied shot glass. “I know why the Federation Tribunal hasn’t charged you and your crew for all that mayhem in Romulan space. The Irons family, Ivonovic, Chief Justice Bashir… You definitely have friends in high places. Friends who are all too eager to sweep this nightmare under the rug. But you have to tell me why the romulans banned you from the courtroom instead of putting you lot on trial.”

“Under Romulan jurisprudence, we could only have been charged for disobeying our captain’s orders,” Dolphin replied. “Only the commanding officer is responsible for the consequences of those orders. They didn’t call us as witnesses because we weren’t needed. Minerva had promised to plead guilty.”

Chekov laughed grimly. “Lawyers! You always find a way to wiggle out of everything!”

Dolphin made an amused noise. “Law: My family’s business since 1947.”


Chekov shook his head slowly. “Don’t get me wrong, Captain Dolphin,” he said. “I’m not sad about you helping to blow up a bioweapons research facility deep in enemy territory. I just worry that you have been promoted too quickly. You have only been in Star Fleet four years – only two other officers ever made captain in such a short period of time. Now I know you had a long talk with Urban. Tell me why he put you in charge of this action. You’re his newest captain and he could have sent Rear Admiral Sally Zimmerman Eaves.”

Dolphin set his shot glass down. “I think you think that I’m too ready to take command of any situation.”

“I noticed that in the Battle over Rings,” Chekov rejoined. “I would say instead, too ready to take credit.”

Dolphin made an amused noise, smiled. “I had been told the andorians were afraid of my name. I figured that gave me a tactical advantage and I used it.”

“So it’s your name that Admiral Yasutake wanted coordinating the JAG fleet out here in the field?” asked Captain Budi.

“No,” Dolphin replied. “The problem is that most of the captains and first officers in these Prowler class ships are primarily lawyers and judges. Sage and I are really the only two who have combat experience, and mine is much more extensive. Nothing like yours, but the last fight most of Admiral Yasutake’s commanding officers have seen was in a courtroom. That’s true for Rear Admiral Eaves as well.”

Chekov rolled his eyes. “Why in all the Milky Way was the JAG fleet set up this way?”

“We weren’t originally conceptualized as a fighting force, Admiral,” Dolphin replied. “As Sir Geoffrey observed, our ships were designed to overtake and overpower pirates. JAG deliberately recruited JAG lawyers and judges with courtroom experience to efficiently catch pirates and smugglers, indict them, conduct investigations, preserve evidence, and make sure there are no due process errors – which has been bedeviling our attempts to put down piracy and break up syndicates whenever Space Command got involved in law enforcement actions. We’re equipped with forensic labs, civilian investigators, special tactical squads and even our pilot corps is more geared toward intercepting outlaws than dealing with military threats.”

Chekov made an amused noise. “Perhaps putting you in charge in the field isn’t that bad an idea after all… You’re going to have to figure out how to get a passel of legal bureaucrats to fight like soldiers.”

“Not so much like soldiers,” Dolphin mused. “More like special forces. I had Geoff run our new phaser configuration against cardassian, ferengi, orion, nausicaan, breen, andorian, klingon and even other Star Fleet hulls. We can take down the shields of pretty much any war ship in an ambush. But if we hang around to try to cut through their hulls, we’re still likely to start taking significant casualties. So my recommendation is we take their shields down, then run away and let Space Command mop them up.”

“Which is the plan,” Captain Budi confirmed. “But it does sound a little cowardly…”

“It should dramatically reduce casualties on all sides,” Dolphin rejoined. “You’re flying a romulan warbird. I just took your shields down, but now, with my tiny phasers, I’m essentially trying to cut through your hull with a welder’s torch. What do you do? You keep fighting...” Chekov and Budi both nodded.

“Now let’s try that again,” Dolphin continued, “only I run away after taking down your shields and now you’re facing an Escort class starship that could cut through your hull while your shields were still up. Without shields, your ship won’t survive a single hit – and that’s just the Escort class… Try that with the Intrepid class or an old Galaxy class. There you are with your pants down around your knees facing the biggest phaser cannons in the Alpha Quadrant – you can’t even go to warp because your navigational screens are down… Most captains would surrender at that point…”


*Vashe zdorovye! – “To your health!”

23.2 (of 15)​

 

[Bynar0110]

Excellent chapter RBS

 

[Robert Bruce Scott]

Star Trek Hunter
Episode 23: JAG Wars
Scene 3: Coins and Marks

23.3
Coins and Marks​

The U.S.S. Hunter was away to conference with the 6th Fleet and only a single shuttlecraft was stationed on the border of vulcan space to await the return of the Hunter’s youngest pilot. It was a heavily armed and armored shuttlecraft, but if the Hunter was dwarfed by a romulan warbird, the wagon was a speck of dust by comparison. The warbird shimmered into existence only 500 meters from the wagon. Ambassador Dewayne Guth, at the helm of the wagon, could only see a small section of the massive hull.

Directly in front of the wagon, a hangar bay opened and a small romulan landing craft emerged. The lander was still about three times the size of the wagon, but was not a warp capable vessel. It took only a minute for the landing craft to pull alongside the shuttle and extend a docking bridge.

Once the pressure readings stabilized, Guth opened the airlock for the wagon and was more than a little surprised to see the U.S.S. Hunter’s youngest pilot involved in a lingering and clearly romantic embrace with a very large and rather uncouth looking romulan guardsman. Guth stepped back to make room for Flight Specialist Jennifer Hopper as she more or less floated into the wagon.

“I see you’re engaged in a charm offensive?” Guth queried as he sealed the airlock and resumed the pilot seat.

Hopper smiled. “Everyone’s terrified of him, but he has a heart of gold.”

“Well, I suppose since we have a treaty with the Romulan Senate and they are involved in applying for membership in the Federation, your little tryst wouldn’t violate regulations against consorting with the enemy…” Guth mused. They watched through the viewscreen as the warbird retreated into vulcan space, then shimmered and vanished.

“I’ll get to see him again,” said Hopper. “Regulations allow me to take my vacation on Vulcan.”

“Seems you’re aiming pretty high,” Guth observed. “If I’m not mistaken, the insignia on his epaulet means he’s a commander. Same as a Star Fleet captain. Seems you have a thing for older men…”

“He’s only 61. That’s not very old for a romulan,” said Hopper.

“So that was his ship?” asked Guth.

“No. He commands ground forces. He’s the military governor of Vulcana Regar, the capital city.”

“You are a fearful little climber,” said Guth. “Well, I won’t say anything, but you will have to fill out a report for Captain Dolphin when you get back to the Hunter.”

“Captain Irons said Dolphin would make captain,” Hopper observed. “Apparently he has friends in high places.”


Guth and Hopper rode in silence for a few minutes, then: “I take it they’re keeping that little personnel shuttle you flew there in?”

Hopper smiled. “I told them to consider it a gift. Which means they will spend countless hours looking for espionage devices that just aren’t there.”

Guth chuckled for a minute, then said, “When we get to Cun Ling, you’re to drop me off at Pern, then pick up Doctor Leonarda Marks from the University of Lower Trantor. She has been on Inactive Ready Reserve as a second lieutenant. I’m told Dr. Gamor wanted her and had her reactivated. Ethan Phillips is taking a promotion to become the Flight Operations Director of the U.S.S. Inspector.”

“What is her doctorate in?” asked Hopper.

“Military History,” Guth replied. “Specifically, fleet operations. Apparently Captain Dolphin is continuing Irons’ policy of requiring all officers above the level of ensign to have at least one advanced degree. You’ll also be picking up a Dr. Griff and Dr. Raaven to fill out the medical staff…”


Guth paused, then: “Okay, I’ve been dying to ask… We were all watching the broadcast of the trial. It cut out just as it looked like Justice Irons was being beamed out…”

“It was unreal,” said Hopper. “Yes, somehow, somebody managed to beam her out of a secured facility, but what you probably couldn’t tell was how weird it got just before she beamed out.”

“Someone was doing strange things with her voice,” Guth observed.

“Someone pumped a powerful hallucinogen into the courtroom,” Hopper gushed. “I don’t know if Captain Irons was breathing it, but I was sitting next to Supreme Commander Sela and we both got a full dose. I don’t know how Sela managed it – she just took charge and started barking orders like she was fine, but I got a look at her eyes and her pupils were dilated like a wild animal. I couldn’t even stand up – the room started spinning every time I tried. I was so terrified - I was bawling my eyes out. If Sela hadn’t been there, I think a lot of people would have gotten trampled. She ordered everyone to crawl to the nearest exit and they did – her soldiers made sure of that. They shot anyone who tried to run – on low stun so it just knocked them off their feet. She was the one who gave me to Nikato and told him to take care of me and deliver me back to Federation space… I was still just a puddle of tears…”

Guth just listened as the story came tumbling out of the young pilot.

“She caught up with me just before they put me on that ship, the Heros, and I thanked her for saving my life – I’m pretty sure she did. She hugged me like I was her sister and told me to be safe… I think she was still under the effect of that hallucinogen. I know I was. I’m still a little freaked…”

“Are you okay to fly, Specialist?” Guth asked.

“We still have another four hours before we get to Cun Ling,” Hopper replied. “I think I will be. I just really need a sandwich and a nap…”

23.3 9 (of 15)​

 

[Bynar0110]

Excellent Chapter RBS I enjoyed it very much.

 

[Robert Bruce Scott]

Star Trek Hunter
Episode 23: JAG Wars
Scene 4: Second Officer

23.4
Second Officer​

Lt. Commander Gaia Gamor had been ordered to report to Captain Kenneth Dolphin in the Gherman S. Titov conference room aboard the U.S.S. Milky Way. Captains and first officers were streaming out of the room – some were beaming out as she arrived. Dolphin was conversing with Captain Sagittarius Hunter when she spotted him.

“Well, we’re all lawyers, so we all imagine ourselves brilliant public speakers in this group,” Captain Hunter was saying. “But I think that went over surprisingly well. Ship’s captains have egos and this lot has a double dose since most of them are also judges. And I heard some of the pre-trial grumbling – they weren’t generally inclined to be told what to do by someone who only made captain a few hours ago.”

Dolphin made an amused noise. “I’ve handled far tougher crowds. When my dissertation and my first book went viral, Harvard University sent me on the debate circuit. My ideas were anathema in academic circles and those audiences kept me on my toes. I had to handle some mean hecklers. Some of whom were my own students… Ah, Gaia,” Dolphin waved his Director of Flight Operations over. “You’ve met Sage?”

Captain Hunter’s eyes widened. “I am certain I would remember if we had met, Lieutenant Commander…” He turned and in a not-so-confidential aside to Dolphin, whispered. “She’s gorgeous! Where is she from?”

Dolphin and Gamor both laughed. “You’ll have to sort that out and court that out later, Sage, but a quick answer, Lieutenant Commander Gamor was born and raised in Ingenda, Congo – pretty much the heart of Africa. She used to be my Director of Flight Operations.”

Gamor was instantly flustered. “Used to be?”

“Gaia, I know you just replaced Ethan Phillips,” said Dolphin. “I need you to replace yourself and get your Flight Operations department fully staffed. I have just received news that our former second officer and medical director have both been transferred. As of now, you are my Chief of Operations. I need you to check the readiness of your other two departments and be ready to report when I get back to the Hunter.”

Gamor was even more flustered. “Um… Thank you?”

“Dismissed, Lieutenant Commander,” Dolphin replied.

Sagittarius Hunter chuckled quietly as Gamor walked away, still obviously stunned. “I have to give you points for style, Kenny. You act like you were born in the captain’s chair.” He shook his head. “She really is stunning.”

“She takes care of herself,” Dolphin replied. “She made it to the quarter finals in krav maga her senior year at academy – spars with our tactical squad to keep sharp. She has superb fighting instincts. I think she’ll make an excellent captain someday. We’re in the process of doubling this JAG fleet, so they’re going to need her soon.”


At that moment, the communicator in Dolphin’s chest brought him Napoleon Boles’ voice. “Captain, Special Agent Anana Lynarr says she has an urgent message for you. Can you get somewhere private to take it?”

“Sorry Sage, it looks like something’s come up. Dinner?”

“I’ll still be on board,” Captain Hunter replied.


“Okay Napoleon, give me a few minutes. I don’t think anyone is using the Buzz Aldrin room…”

23.4 (of 15)​

 

[Bynar0110]

Excellent Chapter RBS.

 

[Will The Serious]

Excellent story and very well told. Smooth movement from the trial to the explanation to the reorganization and mobilization of forces. Keeps the reader from feeling lost while still wondering where this all is heading.

It sounds like Dolphin is beginning to pull a little grudging respect out of Chekov. It's always good to have friends in high places. It's even better to have their respect.

-Will

 

[Robert Bruce Scott]

Excellent story and very well told....It sounds like Dolphin is beginning to pull a little grudging respect out of Chekov. It's always good to have friends in high places....

Thanks for the kind words! And boy is he about to have friends in high places... Thanks!! rbs

 

[Robert Bruce Scott]

Star Trek Hunter
Episode 23: JAG Wars
Scene 5: The Shadow of Death

23.5
The Shadow of Death​

“Welcome aboard the C.D.S. Milithra, Shiva,” said a small, strikingly beautiful romulan woman. “I am Remma. This is Gul LeMark.” Remma indicated a short, thick, sullen cardassian standing next to her.

Shiva (formerly known as Justice Minerva Irons) moved slowly, but her eyes were alive, evaluating. And she was relying on her nascent telepathic abilities - gifts from distant betazoid and vulcan ancestors - more heavily than ever before. These senses seemed to have been heightened since her stroke and were still growing stronger.

This was the transporter room of a cardassian military cruiser. Remma betrayed all the signs of having been extensively tortured, almost certainly with neural-electric shock, and then telepathically dominated, probably from repeated mind melds. It was evident that Remma did not trust Gul LeMark and never had.

Shiva looked into Remma’s eyes, catching her rhythms – a polyrhythm that was off because a new rhythm had been superimposed over the original – an overlay. Remma had been shattered and a new personality had been constructed from the shards of the old. But parts of the original Remma remained, with her original, distinct rhythm. Shiva waited for the competing rhythms to briefly synchronize, then, at that precise moment of alignment:


“Kill him.”


The small, lovely romulan woman struck with the speed of a snake – a small knife emerged from Remma’s sleeve only long enough to just break the thick skin of the cardassian ship master’s neck, then returned to its sheath under her wrist.

A trickle of dark orange blood. A look of surprise etched on LeMark’s face. The short, thick cardassian toppled. He was dead before he hit the deck.


Both the old Remma, the dedicated servant of the Imperial Romulan Senate, and the new Remma, a new personality, a creature specifically manufactured to serve Section 31 – both personalities had been longing to kill LeMark. Shiva’s order brought these two personalities into alignment, bringing clarity to Remma’s world. Where only a moment ago was a mind divided against itself in chaos, now stood a dedicated follower who would obey without question. A worshipper.


“This ship has no registry designation,” said Shiva. “This ship is and always has been the Shadow of Death. Have someone remove all evidence of any other name.”

Shiva took a deep breath and felt as if the weight of the galaxy had suddenly dropped from her shoulders. Straightening her neck and shoulders was effortless for the first time in years. She did not even spare LeMark’s corpse a glance or a gesture as she stepped off the transporter pad. Her voice grew stronger, the quaver of age vanished. The smooth ring of unquestioned authority returned. “Take me to the bridge. Have someone clean that up.”

23.5 (of 15)​

 

[Will The Serious]

Names can connect very strongly with personality. Change your name, change your personality. Nothing like a cold violent act of destruction to demonstrate the change from Minerva to Shiva.

"Shadow of Death" Good name for the ship of Shiva. In the nautical world, it is bad luck to change a ship's name because it will make Neptune angry. So, if you change a ship's name you must purge all records of the old ship's name in a purging ceremony. Ideally, this includes all records on land as well. The old name is then written on a metal plate in water soluble ink to wash free in the sea. This removes the name from Neptune's ledger.

Then you make an offering to Neptune and the four Winds by pouring a real champaign into the sea, in each direction. An expensive rum or high end whiskey or Romulan Ale might work.
https://www.boatsafe.com/renaming-boat/

-Will

 

[Bynar0110]

Capt Irons has been seduced by the dark side.

 

[Robert Bruce Scott]

...Nothing like a cold violent act of destruction to demonstrate the change from Minerva to Shiva...

Capt Irons has been seduced by the dark side.

I'm always amused by reader reactions to Irons becoming a cold-blooded killer in this scene. She's actually always been one. Here's her reaction all the way back in Episode 2 after Mlady kills 18 men with her fangs and claws, turning them into manburger and transforming the courtroom into a bloodbath:

Ensign T’Lon’s tactical team chose that moment to bustle into the room, followed by the ensign herself. Her eyebrows registered surprise at the carnage. “Are you ready for beamout, your honor?”

Irons turned to look at the young vulcan. “Yes, Ensign. Have your team clean up this mess.”

Thanks!! rbs

 

[Robert Bruce Scott]

Star Trek Hunter
Episode 23: JAG Wars
Scene 6: Minerva

23.6
Minerva​

About a half-dozen klingons were wrestling boisterously in a ring that was designed to contain them so that the rest of the establishment did not get destroyed. Blood wine was flowing freely, good-natured insults were taken at face value and at any moment, another klingon might be thrown by his companions into the fighting ring, there to face and deliver random violence. Klingons could walk out of the ring, but they could not run out or be thrown out. One klingon was thrown against this invisible barrier. He slowed as the force field flexed, then cast him back into the fray as though he had been thrown into an elastic wall.

At the bar, an old human with long, tangled, filthy white hair and beard that faded into his long, beige robes cackled with glee at the fighters and slowly worked down a ractagino. Next to him, a rather fierce looking, balding Klingon managed to look nervous.


“Are you certain this is when we are supposed to meet him?” asked Dr. Klingon.

“Would you calm down?” asked Old Man Crusher in some exasperation. “There is no one here who could possibly hurt you… Find some courage. Be klingon.”

“Is this the right time?” The Doctor asked again.

“That’s what I was told. I have it from an unimpeachable source,” Old Man Crusher rejoined.

“And just who told you that this is the right time?”

“I did. I was sitting right where you are now.”

“I hate it when you say things like that!” groused the klingon Doctor.


At that moment, a hush fell over the room. The klingons in the pit stopped fighting. All eyes turned toward the door.

An alien walked into the bar – an alien like nothing any of the regulars (except Wesley) had ever seen. Tall, unusually pale, he favored each person looking at him with a serene kindness – which was immediately insulting to the many klingon warriors in the room. His large hands each had three large fingers.

Two klingons in full armor stepped in front of the strange alien, silently challenging him.


“It’s all right Kowr’ush, Usak,” said Wesley. “He’s with me.”

Slow smiles crossed the faces of both klingons. One stepped aside and gestured toward the bar. The other slapped the alien on the back a bit vigorously, causing him to cough. “Any friend of the old man is welcome here! Well met…”

The alien, realizing the klingon was waiting for his name, hesitated for a moment, then said, “….Bob….”

Usak responded with a strange look, then said, “Well met, Bob!”

The serene smile returned to alien Bob’s face. He waved tentatively at the two klingons, then joined Wes and the Doctor at the bar. The activity and noise levels returned to normal as he ordered a ractagino.



“I take it this is the artificial lifeform known as the Doctor?” alien Bob asked.

“Bob, meet Doctor Prometheus,” said Old Man Crusher. “Doc, this is Bob…”

The large klingon transformed rather suddenly into the human form that the Doctor was more familiar with. “Doctor Prometheus???”

“Come on Doc,” said Crusher. “You have to admit it is a whole lot better than ‘Doctor Robert.’ And it’s the name you gave to yourself.”

Alien Bob (known to Star Fleet’s Xenoanthropology Division as “the Traveler”) watched this exchange with his relaxed, serene smile. A few klingons in the saloon appeared somewhat put off at the sudden appearance of yet another human – but not enough so to raise the issue with Old Man Crusher.


“Wesley,” alien Bob said finally, “I have something we have both been longing to see. Doctor, I think you will like this too. It will stir your professional curiosity.”

“Okay, but let’s take a walk first,” said Crusher. “The klingons get a little crabby about people just popping in and out of this joint.”

“It’s a pretty rough neighborhood out there,” the Doctor objected.

“Oh come on, Doc,” said Crusher. “It’s not as if any of these klingons could hurt you. Bob and I can take care of ourselves.”


About five minutes and two dark and disreputable city blocks later, the three were surrounded by hooded hoodlums who appeared to be more human than klingon.

“Are we far enough from the saloon, Wesley?” alien Bob asked.

“I suppose,” Crusher replied. “You’re driving.”

To the consternation of the hooded hoodlums, the three odd travelers appeared to fade from existence.




A moment later, alien Bob, Old Man Crusher and Dr. Prometheus, appeared in a darkly lit lounge – a single ovular room in which a semicircular sofa lined about ¾ of the wall. The remaining quarter of the wall was taken up by a large, ovular viewscreen displaying, at some distance, the Milky Way galaxy.


“It appears the Lavardorn Avatar is not here at the moment,” said Bob. “When she arrives, we will tour the outside, where it will become evident that we are not riding in a ship. This is a biological creature and she does not like the term “ship.” But she has accepted a name – Dr. Carrera named her ‘Minerva’.”

“Wesley?” the Doctor asked, his eyes fixed on the viewscreen, “Does it look to you like our galaxy is… growing?”

Old Man Crusher turned from his study of the couch and the walls and watched the viewscreen. “It is growing!” He turned toward alien Bob. “Bob, how fast is our friend here traveling?”

“I don’t know,” said alien Bob. “Very, very fast. At this rate, I expect we will arrive in the Milky Way within five of your weeks.”

23.6 (of 15)​

 

[Will The Serious]

Alien Bob. I'm sort of forced to like him on his name alone. Can't wait to hear what this is all about.

Thanks for posting. Love the story you are weaving. A complex tapestry, for sure.

-Will

 

[Bynar0110]

Not surprised Klingons enjoy the art of Bloodsport

 

[Will The Serious]

Not surprised Klingons enjoy the art of Bloodsport

I think they include it in their Olympic games. Funny, but only gold metal winners have ever competed in more than one Olympics. There's no, "You'll get 'em next year."

-Will

 

[Robert Bruce Scott]

Alien Bob. I'm sort of forced to like him on his name alone... Love the story you are weaving. A complex tapestry, for sure.

Thanks for the kind words!! The Traveller is easily a fan favorite of all STNG aliens.

Not surprised Klingons enjoy the art of Bloodsport

And now we have a name for the Saloon... Thanks!! rbs